seiche (/ˈseɪʃ/ saysh)
A phenomenon that occurs within a confined body of water such as a lake, sea or pool. Once disturbed, the enclosed water may produce a seiche or standing wave that moves across its surface or below, between the warmer upper and colder lower layers.
⬬
There is a centuries-old
depiction of Syracuse
of what people believed
it would become
in the local historical museum
The buildings
surround a bright long lake
Onondaga –
a city center
flecked with sails
Some students close by
are snickering
I ask what is so funny
That’s Onondaga Lake
Onondaga Lake
is horribly polluted
The city could never
be built this way
Syracuse – from sirako
Siracusa
Salty marsh
⬬
My mother is appointed Dean
of Syracuse’s Law School
She buys a house
with a slate path
hires a man
to cultivate the backyard
It is the most land
she has owned
A briar patch
berry trees
Wild peonies grow in the rough
of the yard next door
A friendly woman neighbor
appears one day
invites my mother
to take cuttings of the peonies
Help yourself
to whatever you would like
⬬
At twilight a man approaches
my mother’s gardener
He is yelling at the gardener
about cutting the peonies
trespassing on private property
The gardener realizes
the neighbor
is drunk
But your wife
gave us permission –
My wife would never say that
She would never ever say that
The gardener describes
the exchange to my mother
She grows worried
I’m not worried he says
I have my shovel
A MONSTER IN ONONDAGA LAKE.
OCT. 12, 1877
Mr. Abernithy reports
he and his son were fishing
when surprised
by the sudden appearance
of a monster
It swam
along the surface
for several rods
then sank out of sight
⬬
The housecleaner arrives
while my mother is at the office
As The Cleaner
pulls into the driveway
she sees a drunk man
moving down the stone path
into the backyard
shouldering a large crossbow
The Cleaner asks my mother
if she allows hunters on the property
It is not the season
for bow hunting
Fire The beauty is in
the blue of it That dangerous shadow around her
barely visible licking its fingers
⬬
My mother rises
hours before work
to walk the dog
though the dog can no longer
make it up the hill
It is winter
It is dark
Suddenly my mother
sees a man
in camouflage
and a head lamp
in the road
It is not The Neighbor
It is a different man
She continues walking
They pass each other
Your dog is quiet today
he says
ICEBOATS IN COLLISION;
THREE DEAD, THREE HURT
Craft Plunge Head-On Into Each
Other on Onondaga Lake
DEC. 25, 1904
Plowing
into each other
such force
They laid upon the ice
a tangle of splinters
broken cordage
Fearful child I imagined her arms
phantom comforts
Arms wind around her now
fleshy ribbons coiling around
I feel them too
slow like snakes
⬬
I spend a winter Sunday alone
the way I imagine
my mother does
I walk the new dog up the hill
I read for most of the day
Listen to the house tick
Before bed
I take the dog out again
then stand and watch
as she barks at the trees
in the dark yard
⬬
Things go calm
and quiet
stay that way
⬬
Or my mother opens
the front door
The dog is there
gutted entrails
splayed out
like a fan
A gift
⬬
Or my mother is out back
with the dog
It is late
The dog is thirty feet away
My mother hears
a sharp thew
then a thin whistle
The dog collapses
a crossbow’s feathered bolt
lodged in her breast
⬬
Or I am in the backyard
Suddenly The Neighbor’s Wife
is beside me
clutching peonies
She knocks me down
rips the petals
shoves them
in my throat
then covers my eyes
with cool eel grass
lays me out
on the snow
⬬
Or I take the dog
to Onondaga Lake
It is deserted
A building across
pumps out thin clouds
against the sun
A sharp wind
off the water
I walk in
past the icy fringe
I dredge up the bodies
the bone clusters
that line the bottom
Gather them in my arms
Take them to the house
Shove them upright
into the ground
one by one
I build a knobby fence with them
This makes it
stop